Deal with the Devil

Chapter 53

Albus had informed her three nights ago that Tom was back; Harry Potter had been an unwilling participant in the ritual potion that had given him a new body. Once more she felt selfish at the worry for herself and Donal's family. The Potter boy had stood in that graveyard and seen one of his classmates fall. Had fought Tom, though she was sure the dark wizard had been showing off rather than dueling in truth. He had always enjoyed his little games.

Since that night she had insisted Donal keep his distance, reinforcing the fact that they were not married, that they had no children together. He had responded that Voldemort had only just returned, would surely not try to find her and see whether she'd kept her promise yet, if ever.

"I will not take that risk. Please." The pleading in her eyes had done it; he'd agreed on the condition they still spent dinner together every evening.

It was strange to go back to her bed alone after a decade of having someone else there. She'd become comfortable with Donal there. More than that, she'd learned to enjoy physicality with him. Decades of repressed sexuality and abuse had slowly withered away under the touch of hands that loved her, listened to her, responded to her. Whenever she'd needed a moment, he'd stopped; whenever she had wanted to end something altogether, he'd stopped. Donal was everything her stepfather and Tom had not been. He was everything she needed.

In the last few years she had hardly thought of her sexual experiences that didn't include Donal. She was whole, or as close as she could get. Having not even seen Tom since she was nigh forty years old, let alone had him touch her in that way for nearly twenty years more, it was strange even to contemplate that he might care she'd broken the rule he set out for her. But she still couldn't risk it. Afterall, he still held a grudge toward Albus Dumbledore, and that enmity had started before she had been a thought to him.

She started trying to research on her own whatever it was that kept Tom alive. She couldn't help Dumbledore, much as it hurt her. She'd made an oath and Albus had sternly refuted any attempt she'd made, however small, against it.

The year after he came back was purgatory for her. She paced relentlessly whenever Albus sent that he couldn't attend their usual Sunday tea, fretting over what news he might have when he eventually came. She knew about the Order but couldn't participate herself.

"Don't get involved; don't let children get involved," she'd begged Donal. "If they realize you're tied to me, it could destroy everything. It could paint a target on all of us."

One thing Elena had not counted on was the prophecy.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded of Albus. "All of this over a fucking prophecy that could have referred to multiple people. A prophecy that means nothing, really. And you know that as well as I!"

"He found out about it, Elena. I didn't tell Tom anything myself, and I didn't know until it was too late."

She was shaking with rage, had thrown the teacup she held at the news. A bloody prophecy said by a witch who didn't even know she had the gift and Tom had jumped on it. He'd gone so far as to break into the Ministry of Magic to get his hands on it. Albus had dueled him and lived.

"'Neither can live while the other survives.'" Elena scoffed, rubbing at her forehead. "This is why I throw out my prophecies, Albus. This is exactly why. Tom Riddle was a fool to put stock in mine as a child and he's a fool now."

Albus had agreed with her, so he said, but he still seemed to think Harry Potter was the key. Based on his actions, Tom agreed.

"And Antonin has escaped as well. I can't imagine Azkaban was kind to him," she said. "Bellatrix Lestrange, Rodolphous Lestrange, Rabastan. Rad's children?"